


Falling for You

by 1848pianist



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff without Plot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, Love Languages, M/M, Play Wrestling, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: Geralt can be full of surprises when he wants to be, and he's learned a few things from watching Jaskier flirt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 196





	Falling for You

**Author's Note:**

> felt like I needed a palette cleanser after that last fic

Jaskier gazes up at the towering oak across the clearing, its leaves turned a brilliant, fiery red by the early onset of autumn. Beneath the tree, Geralt sits cross-legged among the leaf litter, seemingly oblivious to Jaskier’s attention as he whittles a spare bit of kindling.

Almost everything else Geralt does – eating, sleeping, sharpening his swords, caring for Roach – has an immediate practical purpose, but carving is one of the few things he seems to do simply for the pleasure of it. He never keeps his creations, though, which is a shame. Some of them are really quite good, and Jaskier would keep them for himself if he thought he could pick them up without Geralt’s notice.

He stands up and paces closer to the tree as though stretching out his legs, but really he just wants a closer look at the figure in Geralt’s hands.

Even as each lap of the clearing brings Jaskier a few steps closer to him, Geralt doesn’t look up, too focused on his work to mark his presence. Jaskier circles around the other side of the oak tree, trying to catch a glimpse over his shoulder.

Geralt makes no sign that he’s noticed except for a slight shift in his position, which allows Jaskier to see the telltale points of a swallow’s tail carved in the wood. Before he can satisfy his curiosity further, Geralt abruptly makes a great show of sheathing his knife and slipping the bird figurine out of sight. Without looking around, he flexes his fingers and stretches out his shoulders, almost fully turning his back to Jaskier.

Moving as sneakily as he can, Jaskier takes advantage of the opportunity to leap out from behind the tree, wrap his arms around Geralt’s ribs, and tackle him to the ground. A spray of drying leaves flies up around them as Jaskier drives his shoulder into Geralt’s chest.

If not for the witcher’s willingness to humor him, charging at him like this would be like running headlong into a stone wall, probably with the same result for the structural integrity of Jaskier’s skeleton. Instead, Geralt falls willingly on his side, staring up at Jaskier with an expression of mock exasperation.

“You’re about as subtle as a crowing rooster. I’ve known trolls with quieter footsteps.”

Jaskier laughs, boldly planting a kiss on the edge of Geralt’s jaw.

Smiling despite himself, eyes half-closed, Geralt lifts his chin and turns onto his back, granting Jaskier free access to his throat. Jaskier obliges him with a string of kisses that trail down to his collarbone.

Geralt’s fingertips probe Jaskier’s waist, his thumb tracing the ridge of his hip. Jaskier lifts his head up to kiss him properly, feeling Geralt’s hand run up his spine to his shoulder. He sighs into Geralt’s mouth, arching his back slightly.

Faster than thought, Geralt twists at the hips and flips him over, pinning his arms above his head with one hand. He moves so quickly and with such control over himself that Jaskier hardly feels the impact, though his head spins with giddiness. The only sign that they’ve swapped positions is the sudden appearance of the sky above him.

Bracketed by Geralt’s thighs, Jaskier unconsciously licks his lips, swallowing hard. He sees the witcher’s pupils widen ever so slightly in response.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, almost a purr. Grinning wolfishly, he grabs a fistful of fallen leaves with his free hand and drops them into Jaskier’s face.

“Hey!” Jaskier sputters as Geralt climbs off him and returns to his carving, laughing. “That’s not fair!”

Jaskier spits out the remaining leaves and sits up. Seeking revenge, he throws his arms around Geralt’s neck from behind and tries to pull him back down to the ground, but Geralt doesn’t budge, resisting his attempts without any visible effort. Finally, Jaskier gives up, but doesn’t let go, peering over his shoulder to watch him work. Instead of shaking him off, Geralt leans into him a little, grumbling halfheartedly all the while.

Because Geralt almost never initiates the contact between them, it took Jaskier a long time to realize that he not only didn’t mind being touched, but actually enjoyed it. Eventually, he stopped feeling hesitant whenever they brushed knees under a table or every time he let his hands linger a little too long when washing Geralt’s hair. He learned to watch for the subtle signs of contentment – the hint of a smile, the way Geralt’s eyes tracked him across a room, a barely audible sigh – and delighted in discovering new ways to melt another fraction of his icy exterior.

He realized, too, that while Geralt rarely voices his affection aloud, he demonstrates it in a thousand other ways. He lets Jaskier eat off his plate, sleeps between him and the door as though guarding him from harm, stops to make camp the moment before Jaskier complains of exhaustion. As they’ve grown comfortable with each other, touch has become the bridge between them, a shared language they both speak while they learn each other’s native tongues.

“Here.” Geralt shifts beneath him, passing the swallow over his shoulder for Jaskier to admire. He sits back and cups it in his palm, surprised, but only a little, that Geralt could make something so delicate. After a moment longer, he hands it back.

“You should keep this. Give it to Ciri.”

Geralt smiles with just his eyes in that way Jaskier has never known anyone else to be capable of. He’s used that description, “smiling with just their eyes,” before, but Geralt manages to give the phrase an entirely new meaning, shifting his whole expression without actually moving his face at all.

Geralt sees him staring and tilts his head.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He looks up at him and blushes.

“You’re an idiot,” Geralt informs him fondly.

“Ah, but I’m your idiot.”

“True.” He smiles with just a hint of teeth.

Though it’s still far too early to sleep, Geralt lies down in the leaves and closes his eyes, one arm behind his head. The space created at his side is too tempting for Jaskier to resist, so he curls up beside him and rests his head on his chest. Geralt hums, low in his throat.

“Jaskier.”

“Yeah?”

Geralt doesn’t continue immediately, instead playing with the untied lace of Jaskier’s doublet, wrapping it around his index finger and tugging him ever so slightly closer.

“Come with me to Kaer Morhen this winter.”

Jaskier props himself up on one elbow, sitting up so quickly that Geralt opens his eyes, startled.

“Really?”

He nods.

“The whole winter?”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “No, I’m going to make you walk back down the mountain once it starts to snow.”

“Don’t even joke.”

“You’ll come?”

“Of course I’ll come.”

Geralt pulls on the lace of his doublet again, and as he leans down to kiss him, Jaskier thinks that he couldn’t possibly be any happier.


End file.
